Turning Over Old Leaves
by SawManiac211
Summary: Based on SeaSaw's chracters - thanks for letting me write this! Hoffman returns from hospital after 'Is There Truly Life fter Death' and tries to keep the conditions John has set for his return... Please R&R!
1. Did You Miss Me?

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own SeaSaw or Saw. And yes, it is completely irrelevant to the sequel of 'Is There Life After Death?'…sorry…**

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"Uhh…do you know where this is meant to go?"

The two women – the red head and the dark – stared at the screw.

"Oh my God, this is such a pisstake!" Michelle complained, glaring angrily at the offending object.

"You were the one putting this fucking thing together," Amanda snapped. "There's no point looking at me like that!"

"But John's going to be soooo mad…" Michelle wailed.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Amanda stood up wearily; it was one tiny little screw, for crissakes! "Look, we'll just do what I've always done in this kind of situation."

"And what's that?"

Amanda paused for a moment before throwing the screw out of the window of the warehouse. It winked in the sun for a moment as it turned through the air, but then it was gone. There was a distant tinkle as it hit the ground outside.

Michelle's eyes widened. "You shouldn't do that!"

Amanda wasn't sure whether Michelle meant throwing away a most probably important component of the trap they had just completed, or the many deep cuts on her legs that had bee revealed when she'd hurled the screw away from her. Maybe it was both…she decided to get new black jeans; these ones – even though they were skinny – were getting way too short. "What are you gonna do?" She sneered. "You going to go crying to John about this? Well you shouldn't bother; he'd be just as pissed at you as he would be at me."

"No he wouldn't…" It was very quiet, but Amanda still heard it, and she flinched from a mixture of anger and hurt. It brought back all the reasons for hating this snivelling little bitch who'd dyed her hair red to suit her new life.

John loved Michelle. It didn't matter that she'd tried to take her own life and wasted his offer of a second one; he'd given her a third motherfucking chance and when she'd passed that – albeit with a bullet wound – he'd completely forgiven her.

He wouldn't do it for _her_. If she ever – God forbid it – wasted _her_ second chance in life John would never do any of the things he did for Michelle for her.

But then again, he didn't love her as much.

This was the reason why Amanda hated Michelle so much and cut those slices on her legs and arms and body.

Because she loved John, but John didn't love her back.

At that very moment he walked into the warehouse, coughing a little as he got near them. The cancer was getting the better of him and at night Amanda subconsciously listened to his breathing, anxious that the next breath may be his last…

She didn't actually watch him though; Michelle did that now.

He smiled and suddenly his blue eyes were sharp, clear. "Have you finished the trap?" Amanda gave a returning smile.

"Yeah, we've finished it." Grinned Michelle. It was only then that Amanda realised that the smile had been directed at Michelle only. Her own flickered and died.

John walked over and ran his hand over the trap, looking at it from ever angle. "Good work." He murmured, and Amanda felt again that rush of rage and hurt that she always felt when she saw these moments of connection between Michelle and John. Fuckin' bitch burn in _hell_…her thoughts must've shown on her face because John noticed and frowned disapprovingly. Michelle groaned inwardly; here we go again, another lecture…

But before he even opened his mouth the door banged open and a figure was standing there…a very familiar figure that, even though Amanda hated his guts, had actually managed to put Michelle in her place, and that was the reason that Amanda was pleased he was back.

"I'm back!" Hoffman grinned sarcastically round the room at them, whilst they stared back at him in shocked silence. "Did you miss me?"

"You're back early." Jigsaw said coldly.

"Yup; it's amazing what health care you get when you're in the FBI." Hoffman smirked. He noticed that Jigsaw had stepped protectively between him and Michelle and his smirk grew wider.

"Hoffman, we need to talk." The Jigsaw side of John growled. "NOW." He stalked through the side door which led to the 'medical room'. Amanda noted how Michelle seemed to cringe when John left a space between herself and Hoffman and gave a little smirk herself; Hoffman scared Michelle, that was all she needed.

Hoffman noticed her staring at him and his smirk faded. He nodded stiffly and she returned it just as icily – they may both hate Michelle, but it didn't stop them from hating each other. Then he stepped through the plastic sheeting of the door and Amanda walked out of the room.

What she needed right now was a really nice sharp knife…


	2. New Year's Resolution

Hoffman took a brief moment on entering the room to glance at all the new extra bottles gathered on the shelves. "You're cancer's getting worse, isn't it?" John had a sudden violent coughing fit, and a bit of blood splattered onto the concrete floor. "I'm taking that as a yes."

"Hoffman…" John glared at him, not put off by Hoffman's sudden curiosity into his health. "We agreed…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Hoffman sighed. "Come later rather than sooner, you have no more trust in me, blah de blah de blah –"

"Hoffman, this is serious!" John was shouting as loud as he could without being heard from the other room. "You _raped_ Michelle, you left emotional scars on her that cannot be fixed –"

"Yeah, I think we went through that already…" Hoffman interrupted coldly; his own scars from his trap still hadn't faded, despite all the health care and medication he'd been forced to have for a month or so. "And besides, I think you're healing those pretty well yourself…no need for tips from me…"

There was a deathly silence. "What are you saying?" John growled dangerously.

"You're fucking her." Hoffman said simply. "I can read the signs…you must be doing well, I'm happy to have broken her in for you –"

John's reaction took Hoffman by surprise; despite being riddled with cancer, John was pretty strong and Hoffman was pinned to the wall with a scalpel at his throat before he could get his gun out of its holster.

"Mark Hoffman, you listen to me," John hissed, and this time his voice was so dangerous that Hoffman stopped trying to escape and just stared wide eyed at him. "What you did was inexcusable, and if not for my philosophies you'd be dead by now. What is different between you and me is that I didn't force Michelle to do _anything_ with me, and if I were you I'd make good use of your second chance because if you don't…you know what'll happen…" John withdrew the scalpel as the ripping of knives through flesh seemed to rebound through the many days since that incident.

Hoffman swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "You said…something about 'conditions'...when we talked last."

John looked at him, and Hoffman didn't like what he saw in his eyes. "I guess the most obvious condition in this negotiation is Michelle. You don't talk to her, you don't come in twenty paces of her unless I give you my expressed permission to do so and even if you do I will be watching you all the time. If you try anything I swear you'll be back in a trap and either die or never come back here again. Is that clear?"

"Got it..." Hoffman looked at John and knew that worse was coming. "...There's more isn't there?"

John nodded, and this time Hoffman was convinced that although his face was blank, he was grinning on the inside. "You can have nothing more to do with women. No dating, no contact, and especially no sex."

"..._What?!_" Hoffman would have burst out laughing had it not been such a serious matter. That and the fact that John was clearly enjoying himself. Which was pissing him off. "Are you trying to turn me into a monk or something?"

John's face remained emotionless. "As you subjected to your own lust, so you will never be able to show it to others ever again. Since you forced a woman to show her 'love', you will never know it."

"So I can never fuck anyone?" Hoffman screamed; he was so pissed he didn't care about anyone hearing.

John finally allowed his smirk to show. "Of course you can. You'll note that I never said anything about _men_..." He paused, his smirk growing wider and wider as Hoffman struggled with his rage. At least he was learning that lashing out in anger would only make things worse.

"You _bastard!_" Hoffman finally spat out.

"You're welcome." John said as Hoffman turned to the door. "And Hoffman?" Hoffman stopped and glared over his shoulder. John smiled. "Do you know the date?"

"I've been in fucking hospital," Hoffman snarled. "You think I know?"

"Well, it is New Year's Day. Let's call this a New Year's resolution which – for a change – cannot be broken." John nodded thoughtfully as Hoffman swore and kicked at a metal trolley bitterly. "Happy New Year!"

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**So, how am I doing so far? Please review and let me know!**


	3. Takin' Out The Trash

Hoffman stormed out of the 'medical room', his eyes blazing. He caught sight of Michelle and moved towards her, his anger finally overtaking him. The little _bitch_ –

"Mark, just leave it. She ain't worth it." Amanda sighed as she walked into the room and saw Hoffman standing over Michelle, who was cowering on the floor. "Besides, you'll get into more trouble with John than you need right now..." Hoffman looked mutinous, but he backed away slowly from Michelle, still glaring at her as she struggled up whimpering.

_Honestly_, Amanda couldn't help thinking. _What a cry baby_. He turned round to face her and she kept her face calm, expressionless. "A life without fucking," She smirked, shaking her head slowly. "How will you be able to live without it?" Hoffman smashed her against the wall, eyes blazing. Amanda's lips twitched a little – she knew she'd hit a nerve – but she had to admit even she was slightly scared when Hoffman was like this. But hey, she just _adored_ winding him up and watching him go mad as hell. "John." She warned him laughingly, and he slowly released his grip on her. Michelle whimpered again, and knowing exactly what would happen if John burst in on the situation, Hoffman walked quickly out of the room.

"I'd chuck all the magazines out to, Hoffman!" Amanda called after him. He froze. "Oh come on, we all know you have some stack of topless women hidden under your mattress. Teenage boys I can expect that from, but _detectives_..." She cackled at Hoffman's look of cold fury, and he marched furiously out of the room before he did some serious harm to her.

_He went through his ROOM?! _For God's sake, he wasn't a fucking _child_. Then again, the magazines must've proved that...Hoffman swore and punched the wall, then swore again as his knuckles were bashed to pieces by the impact.

So he didn't have any privacy any more. What next, motherfucking _cameras?_ Hoffman paused and shuddered. Knowing John, that was _exactly_ the kind of thing he would do.

Walking into his room, he noted that the lock had been taken off the door and he seethed. Lousy fucking John...

He also noticed the magazines had been put right in the middle of his bed. He sighed, calming down slightly.

Well, this was the closest he was going to get to any contact with women ever again – apart from Amanda and Michelle, and they hardly counted. Hoffman knew John, and he knew that John wouldn't let him out of his sight until forever. It was kind of like being grounded on a permanent basis, only he was being taken straight from work instead of school.

He bridled at the whole thing; he wasn't a _child_...

But then, he had raped Michelle. He didn't exactly regret that – he had been so glad when she'd broken into so many pieces; he hated her and still did – yet somehow...

Hoffman sighed again and rolled those thoughts out of his head. What had been done – no matter what he thought of it – was done, and he had no idea in hell about how to deal with the consequences of his actions.

He had no fucking idea how monks coped without...well, fucking.

At that point he decided to never think or say the word 'fuck' again – it would simply torment him – but of course his mind started a repeated mantra of 'fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck fuck' and he groaned inwardly.

This was probably going to kill him.

He reached down and began shovelling the magazines into the waste chute.

This was going to kill him, but somehow he was going to live with the consequences of his actions.

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**Someone has got to feel sorry for a Hoffman right now...what, not even a teeny tiny bit...? Ah well...**

**IT'S GOING TO SNOW TONIGHT!!! As you can tell, I'm excited...my lifelong dream is to build an igloo LOL**

**Has anyone else ever wanted to build an igloo? Please answer in your comment!**


	4. Needs And Truths

**In advance I'm sorry I haven't put this chapter up for ages, but it's because of the following:**

**Building my *cough* igloo**

**Caring for my virtual farm**

**Arguing with my friend's on MSN**

**Homework**

**Suffering from depression over French GCSE (seriously, who CARES about complex connectives and all that? **** that if you ask me)**

**Drama club**

**Apology over. Now let's get on with it...**

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A fortnight into the 'conditions', and Hoffman was already devising something to satisfy his needs. However on looking at the actual design he realised it would give him an electric shock, kill him or as an added bonus, both at once.

He swore under his breath, scrunched the plan up into a ball and chucked it in the vague direction of the bin. At that very moment in time there was a long drawn out moan from the 'medical room', and Hoffman stuck his finger up in the vague direction of there too.

As if to torment him further, John was fucking Michelle right where he could hear them. He knew that John was testing his resolve, but it annoyed Hoffman that he had such feelings for the brat. It was just too..._obvious_; the way they looked at each other, the way he touched her when he thought Hoffman wasn't looking...

Well, of _course_ he knew Hoffman was watching, because – to put it lightly – Hoffman now felt like a suspected terrorist; watched 24/7 with not the time to piss in private.

Of course, he took it out on Michelle. But not physically; mentally. Just being in the same room as her made her squirm, and soon he was taking all the pleasures from that; making her shit scared without even breathing on her.

Amanda seemed to be in tune to his thoughts, and yet crackle out of them whenever he thought she was on the same tuning as himself. Then again, without knowing it, Hoffman was exactly the same. This exasperated both of them, so they spent the time they had to work together not talking apart from an occasional criticism of the other and remaining like two blocks of frozen Antarctic ice.

Moaning slightly himself, Hoffman moved away from the drawing desk. He tried to avoid any free time because there was nothing really to do – i.e. read skin mags – because there were no skin mags left. And the most irritating part was that when he had longed for free time, it now came in such abundance he had too much on his hands.

Which was why he had been doing that damn design...

Another annoying thing about Amanda was that she moved as quietly as an iceberg too, so suddenly she was standing right in front of him. Hoffman jumped back, surprised, and then felt his anger boiling to the surface again as Amanda sniggered at his shocked reaction.

"Lost in thought, eh, Hoffman?" Amanda sneered. "Ah, to fuck or not to fuck, that is the question..."

Hoffman wearily pushed down his rage for what seemed like the millionth time. In just two weeks his emotions were wreaking havoc like weather during global warming, and, like acid rain, it was slowly but surely wearing him down.

"Amanda...just piss off." He sighed tiredly, walking past her.

"Off to bed then?" She asked as he made for his room. "Not really much to stay up for nowadays is there? Sad isn't it? Although, if the only reason you stayed up for anyway was sex..." She let the subtle insult hang in the air.

That was too much for Hoffman. He spun round and opened his mouth to say something suitably cutting, but at that moment another long drawn out moan escaped the realms of the 'medical room' and Amanda flinched as though Hoffman had already said something and stuck a knife in her for good measure.

That made him pause. Her face...

The pause gave Amanda enough time to walk away quickly and lock the door of her room behind her as she shut it with a soft click.

Hoffman looked after her and felt something like guilt. However it couldn't really have been guilt; he'd lost all contact with his conscience after his sister Angelica had been raped and murdered. Well, he'd killed the guy who'd done it, but that wasn't the point.

A week ago he'd told – or rather shown – Amanda about John and Michelle. He was surprised she hadn't guessed already, but he wasn't exactly surprised – although smart in some ways, Amanda had the same ability to piece together – even blindingly obvious – twos and twos to make fours as the average stereotypical blond.

She had been self – harming, and he was surprised at how shocked he'd felt at seeing her cutting deep into her leg, the silver of the cold steel clothing itself with her warm blood. He wondered how long – and how many times – she'd been doing it.

Her reaction to John and Michelle fucking each other was even worse. He'd managed to hide his emotions on her self harming and even managed a cutting line, but Amanda...she fell to pieces in front of his eyes. Oh she'd pulled together all right, but not completely, like the slightest touch would break her completely – like a glass vase that had been shattered and then stuck together with a laborious coating of superglue. That had been clear from the look on her face just then.

As Hoffman went into his room to await further instructions whilst John was 'busy', he realised two things.

Firstly, he realised that he had somehow – inexplicably – regained contact with his conscience.

And secondly, he realised he wasn't so shocked about Amanda self harming.

He was so shocked at the way he'd cared about her doing it.

How he cared about her.

Must be some kind of withdrawal symptom...

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**Well, that was faster than I expected...**

**Well, I included SeaSaw's 'I'll Tell You My Dirty Little Secret' and this one was while 'Play Russian Roulette With My Heart' was going on. Please read both, and review all three (that's mine included, for the ones that don't know...)**


	5. Night Watch

**Before I begin this chapter, an instruction: kill every single cute little foxy woxy you see.**

**I will; one of them knocked over a whole wall on my igloo.**

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Hours after the 'incident' that had happened that morning, Hoffman still argued that it wasn't his fault.

In truth, it wasn't; he had heard the shower water turn off, waited five minutes for whoever it was to vacate the bathroom, and then went down there himself.

He really hadn't known that Amanda had still been in there.

It really wasn't his fault that Amanda's deodorant had gone missing so she had been hunting around for it.

And he really hadn't known that she had been naked when he walked in without knocking.

Things went to a head, and ten seconds later Hoffman was sitting dazed and dripping against the shower with a red throbbing face and Amanda's screams resounding in his ears.

John's face – when he found out (from Amanda's point of view, helped by Michelle, who wanted to see Hoffman being killed by John) – was red too, but not from – unlike Hoffman – Amanda's slaps. Even though Hoffman tried to explain, he just knew that nothing he said would change John's mind about what had happened.

So after with a pretty long, shouted lecture – Hoffman was sure the two women had been listening, he could've sworn he heard a muffled snigger – and a day spent in slightly more frigid than usual silence, Hoffman discovered he was on night watch.

Again.

Roughly, this – as he already knew – could be translated as 'Torment-by-listening-to-other-people-fucking-each-other-all-night-with-no-coffee'.

If you asked Hoffman, even as a punishment this was uncalled for.

Stifling a yawn and trying to ignore the moans coming from next door, Hoffman glanced down at his watch.

It was eleven o'clock.

He cursed silently and rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake. At that point he realised he wasn't tired. He was actually yawning from boredom, and the restlessness which had haunted him for so many nights was on him again.

"I'm guessing you're awake." Hoffman didn't even have the heart to jump as Amanda materialised unexpectedly in front of him.

"Jesus...do you have to keep doing that?" He asked.

"That's a nice welcome for someone who's brought you coffee!" Amanda huffed, jiggling the cup in her hand.

Had Hoffman been more alert, he would've noticed that Amanda's cup was steaming and his wasn't. However, at this stage he was so desperate that he simply snatched the coffee cup, took a gigantic swig – and almost spat it out.

"FUCK, THIS IS FREEZING!" He spluttered, forgetting again his resolution on the word 'fuck'.

"Well, it does serve you right for walking in on me like that," Amanda chuckled, settling down next to him. "And besides, it's the thought that counts!"

Hoffman ignored this and tried to concentrate on drinking the cold – no, that was unfair, make that tepid – coffee without actually tasting the murky, gritty contents. If there were awards for making coffee, Amanda sure wouldn't win any...

His thoughts turned to that morning, and the brief glimpse he'd had of Amanda's pretty well proportioned body...

And the scars that ran across her arms, legs and lower torso. He flinched from even _remembering_ – he'd known about Amanda self harming, but he'd had no idea...

"Stop thinking about my body, Hoffman," Amanda elbowed him hard. "I can read your face like a book!"

Hoffman reached over and yanked up Amanda's sleeve, revealing the deep red lines that marked her smooth white skin. "Yeah well," He murmured, tracing his fingers down the cuts. "If every line apparently tells a story..."

Amanda stiffened and started to pull her arm away, but Hoffman caught hold of her hand. "Amanda, why the fuck are you doing this to yourself?" He decided to forget the 'fuck' resolution. For now. "I mean, you've got a whole second chance at living and all that shit, you can make any bloody torture weapon you want without having to ask anyone first, you don't have to pay tax or mortgage, so what –"

At that moment a loud groan escaped the room next door, and Hoffman watched Amanda's face flinch as she tried to hold herself together.

And he realised.

"You love him," He said it out loud, and he was surprised at how much it hurt him. "You'd rather it were you in there fucking John, not that bitch."

"Hoffman," Amanda tried to pull herself free, but Hoffman tightened his grip. He hadn't finished yet.

"That's why you hate Michelle," He continued, and it was the first time he said Michelle's name out loud. "That's why you keep cutting yourself. But Amanda, it doesn't work –"

"Hoffman, I know." Amanda whimpered. "Please..." He looked into her eyes and realised she was on the brink of breaking down, so he did the one thing possible in that situation – thus breaking part of the conditions.

He pulled her in and held her close.

As he felt Amanda's body being wracked with violent sobs, he pulled her – if possible – even closer. He could feel the faint pattering of her heartbeat and as she rested her head against his shoulder and the sobs subsided his lips came into touching distance with hers –

And at that point he jolted himself out of it. What the _hell_ was he playing at? He was gambling his whole life on someone he hated, loathed even, on breaking the conditions that just about stopped John from tearing him apart. Besides, he'd already come to that conclusion about withdrawal symptoms...

Hoffman pulled away abruptly, and Amanda looked slightly perturbed. She gave him a small, timid smile, and it was like a very small knife through his heart.

_withdrawelsymptoms_...

"Amanda," He said carefully, meeting her gaze. "Look...he's way too old for...well, any of us. Which is why that little slut back there is taking advantage of that – I'm too good for her, you see?" Amanda snorted and Hoffman, encouraged, kept going. "So...please, Amanda...promise me you'll stop cutting. Cos you really don't need to." Amanda turned away from him and he gently but firmly raised her head to force her to look at him. "For me. Please." Amanda paused and then nodded. Hoffman withdrew his hand, and there was a slightly awkward silence as there was nothing much to say after that.

After a while, Amanda got up. "It's nearly midnight." She commented. "I'd better get to bed."

"Yeah." Hoffman nodded. "You do that."

Amanda paused, and suddenly kissed him lightly. "Thanks." She murmured, before walking quickly to her room.

Hoffman sat there in silence for a few minutes, trying not to touch the place where Amanda had kissed him.

It may be withdrawal symptoms, but damn they were strong...


	6. Breaking Point

**Newsflash: An apology to the foxes. Please don't shoot them because they are not to blame.**

**The real culprits for igloo-destruction are the grey nut-gorgers called squirrels – please begin to shoot them instead.**

**Thank you.**

* * *

Three whole months later, Amanda's scars had almost completely disappeared and Hoffman wanted to die.

He had started to discover the second fact after he'd realised that one morning he'd actually been considering sticking his genitals down the plughole in the sink. However, Hoffman remembered some story he'd heard about a man getting his own member stuck down a pipe and he restrained himself, not particularly wanting John to walk in on him...stuck.

Not Michelle either.

Or Amanda.

_Definitely _not Amanda.

What had started as strong withdrawal symptoms had turned into a raging lust that he was sure his frayed to breaking point self control wouldn't be able to hold back much longer.

The first fact he found out two weeks after that incident when Amanda walked in to the work room wearing a tight black t-shirt with strap sleeves. He tried to keep working as usual but he kept sneaking glances at her whenever she wasn't looking.

Her skin was smooth and the lines were so faint you could miss them. Hoffman was irrationally pleased that she had kept her promise; she now took out most of her aggression on Michelle. Michelle, as a result, hardly ever worked with them any more. However, she was never really needed as John seemed to need her for some very 'important work'. Amanda and Hoffman didn't need to know what _that_ was...

Amanda reached up to screw something in a bit tighter and Hoffman couldn't help noticing that the tight t-shirt showed off her lithe body to the best of its ability, the peak of its tightness being around her chest.

"Eye fucking ain't gonna solve your problems." Amanda commented brightly without turning around.

Hoffman turned back to his work, rattled that he'd been noticed. "I wasn't." He muttered before he had time to think about how childish the words sounded. He heard Amanda's chuckle and felt his irritation bubbling to the surface again along with his lust.

He breathed in deeply, his eyes closed. He just needed a few seconds...

"Actions make a lot more of an impact than thoughts or words, you know..." Amanda smirked, walking over to him and getting as close as she could to him without making any contact. Hoffman sensed this and he wheeled round, his lust finally breaking all of his restraints. Amanda felt the snap and took a step closer, daring him to give in. Hoffman felt it too and tightened his hand round the metal spike he'd been working on. It had been filed to sharp that just the lightest touch would cause a cut, and the pain came as a welcome relief.

He hissed but the sudden pain was all he needed to regain control. He let the spike clatter to the floor and stalked out of the room, intending to find a bandage.

"Aww, you were making me so hopeful!" Amanda called after him. Hoffman ignored her and kept going, but as he reached the 'medical room' he heard a moan slink underneath the closed door and he groaned inwardly; John and Michelle were definitely waay too into their 'important work' for him to burst in and grab a bandage, even for five seconds.

Standing outside the door as another moan escaped it, he suddenly felt incredibly tired. He understood all the risks of breaking the conditions but it was so hard to keep them. Now his thoughts seemed to be constantly filled with Amanda, and not even working hard cancelled them out. The restlessness was now so bad he didn't sleep full stop, and more than half of his time and energy he seemed to spend on struggling with his morals and emotions, which was making the fatigue worse.

It was at this point that Hoffman started to want to die.

However, if he'd known what Amanda had been thinking and feeling for those three months as well, he may not have...


	7. Handcuffs

Hoffman wasn't sure whether to be grateful or not for not having to do a night watch for being informed by John that he wouldn't have to be doing the night watch that night.

The plus side was he wouldn't have to be listening to John and Michelle having sex while he had to fantasise over it.

The down side was that at least he was preoccupied whilst doing it and therefore didn't have to face the constant battle of the wills that took place in his body and the restlessness that came with it like a buy one get one free bargin.

Getting undressed, he heard someone slip silently into the room behind him. "You know, some say knocking is just a matter of courtesy, but in cases like this –"

Before he could even finish his sarcasm, someone lunged at him pushed him on the bed. Fighting back, he had enough time to recognise a blur of red and he began to hit his assailant as hard as he possibly could, trying to cause as much pain as possible.

Pulling back his fist for what seemed like a millionth time in this struggle – he couldn't move his lower body to defend himself because his attacker was sitting on it – something cold clicked shut around his wrist. Frantically he closed his free hand around it to pull it off, but he only had time to register the coldness of some kind of metal before something clicked shut around his other hand.

Handcuffs.

Hoffman swore loudly in the one word that tormented him: "FUCK!"

He heard a laugh and suddenly Michelle's face loomed right above his. "You like this don'tcha Mark?"

"You little slut!" Hoffman spat at her, tensing as she pulled off the remainder of his clothing. "...Put those back on me _now_ and let me go or I swear I'll make your life unbearable!"

"What exactly can you do to me?" Michelle smirked, reminding him of the conditions.

Hoffman leaned forward. "More than you could think me capable of, and just as much pain too if you don't let me go..." He threatened softly, and he had the brief pleasure of seeing that look of fear brush the confident smile of triumph off her face before she legged it out the room, shutting the door behind her.

Hoffman tried to move but he soon realised that the handcuffs were looped round the metal bars of the bed, suffragette style, and it would be impossible to get out with a key. He swore and lay back. He couldn't move, he was completely naked and if anyone decided to come in...

_Oh God, please, noooo..._Hoffman thought desperately as he saw the door handle start to turn five minutes later.

The door swung open, and Amanda was lounging in the doorway, just smirking and raking her eyes over his defenceless form.

_As if this couldn't get any worse..._He thought as he tried to glare at Amanda and lie in a more dignifying position to protect the remainders of his dignity.

She moved round to the foot of the bed and Hoffman followed her with his eyes, hardly registering the door banging shut. They stared cautiously at one another in total silence, and then Amanda started – oh-so-slowly – to strip.

_Oh...shit..._Hoffman closed his eyes as the beast inside him roared hungrily and he tried to gain some more control before he lost it all.

"You don't want to close your eyes, Mark..." Amanda's voice echoed from the darkness. "You may miss something..." And then she slid on top of him.

Mark's lust broke from its restraints for good and he actually gasped from the pleasure of it. Amanda's skin was like flames against his and he didn't need to look down to know that his erection was already prominent.

"Amanda...we shouldn't...I shouldn't..." He breathed, knowing his body language was saying something completely different.

Amanda laughed and licked her lips. "You're forgetting John missed something out..."

"Oh God, please don't tell me you're really a man!" Hoffman groaned as she pressed her hand against his throbbing cock.

"Noooo..." Amanda leaned in conspiratorially and Hoffman had to bite his lip to stop himself from kissing her. "Y'see, he said you couldn't fuck anyone...but he never said anyone couldn't fuck _you_."

Hoffman was trying to find a flaw in this logic and work out whether you could be fucked by a girl when really it was usually the man that actually fucked someone – but then Amanda ground against him and all those thoughts went out the window. "Amanda –" He gasped, trying to formulate another argument on why this shouldn't be happening, but then she gave his nipple a quick nip and he groaned in ecstasy.

"Sssh, Mark," Amanda ran her finger down his chest. "For once, let me do the work..."

Despite the euphoria he was in after his long restriction period, Hoffman squirmed desperately as Amanda's lips and tongue slipped down his stomach. "_Amanda..._"

She suddenly got off his body and he felt a pang of regret before her face was suddenly pressed close to his.

"You don't want me to fuck you?" She asked, pressing her forehead so close to his it hurt. "You think I'm not good enough for your pompous ass?" Hoffman tried to breathe to be able to protest against the accusations, but Amanda just smiled evilly and pressed her lips across his. "Don't worry," She murmured, playing with a lock of his hair. "I'll have you screaming by the end of the night..."

If Hoffman had been in torment before, then it had been nothing compared to this. He tried to keep his mind thinking, remembering, but Amanda's torment kept jamming the cogs.

He wasn't sure how long it went on for; it was like time and space had simply stopped.

And in the end he lost track of anything – everything – Amanda was doing to him.

In the end he was only aware of the sensations of warmth, pain and the touch of Amanda's slim fingers everywhere, and his own ragged breathing as his flames leapt beneath his skin...

"'Mandy..." His lust seemed to have become a living, breathing fire-demon at this point; it tensed as he breathed out the word, sensing that Hoffman was about to cave.

Amanda raised herself up from him and hung herself there, her clit just rubbing his dick; he would've pointed out then that she was tormenting herself as well as him, but he wisely – for the first time – kept quiet. "Wassup, Mark?" She grinned wolfishly, slightly breathless.

"Fuck...me..." Hoffman immediately regretted the words as soon as they'd passed through his mouth, and felt a burst of annoyance. After all he'd gone through, he was just going to give in that _easily_? He'd broken Michelle and watched her fall to the ground in so many shattered pieces, and he was doing exactly the same...

Then Amanda leant over and brushed her lips over hers, pushing her tongue over his lower lip, and he moaned slightly – maybe it wasn't so bad to give in to this...

"What's the magic word?" She asked teasingly. He tried to glare at her, but failed. The demon clawed at his insides, chiding him for his indecision.

"_Please..._" He whimpered, and Amanda turned up the corners of her lips in what was clearly an 'I-told-ya' smile.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" She murmured, before practically impaling herself on him. As she picked up the pace, Hoffman instinctively pulled at the handcuffs to pull her hips closer to his, but although – to his slight surprise and slight arrogant pride – due to trying to 'work off' his cravings, and gaining pretty hard muscles in the process, the metal links wouldn't budge. It didn't stop him from trying.

"Those things are freaking sore, believe me..." Amanda hissed, pressing her lips to where the metal was digging deep into the flesh because of Hoffman's efforts. "You don't want to struggle too much..." She felt herself climaxing and cried out. "Mark!"

Hoffman smirked and ran his lips over her breasts; he had a slight satisfaction in hearing her call his name, even though she was the one violating him. But damn, it felt good...

Was it wrong to say it felt like the one thing that had been missing from his body for a long time?

He felt himself cum into her and he groaned, arching his back and wincing as the cuffs dug in once again. He felt Amanda lightly collapse onto his chest and wanted so much to be able to hold her tighter and run her silky hair between his fingers...

"You can get me out now." Hoffman said, kissing the top of her head.

He felt Amanda's lips curl against his skin. "Sorry Mark, if I do that Michelle's gonna get suspicious...though she's so dumb I'm not sure whether she'll notice."

"I have a theory she was a blond in the past life..." Hoffman grinned, and they laughed together at the one thing they hated the most.

"I'd better go." Amanda said suddenly, swivelling her legs over the side of the bed and putting her clothes back on.

Hoffman smirked, his confidence regained. "Time for the next customer, 'Mandy?"

Amanda elbowed him in the side, which hurt a lot more than it should have done because he wasn't able to defend himself. "Shut up you bastard, I ain't some kind of prostitute like little miss red-head!" She paused at the door. "Sometimes you really make me want to –"

"Chain me up to the bed and rape me?" Hoffman asked cheekily. "Sorry, already been done."

"Hey, I didn't chain you up!"

"Bet you wish you could all the time..."

"Do I ever..." Amanda winked cockily and turned off the light with a click. "Sweet dreams, Mark Hoffman..." He heard her mutter to herself on the way out; "Well, Michelle did _something_ good for a change..."

Ignoring the throbbing pain in both his wrists, he rolled over and tried – and actually succeeded – to get some sleep.

* * *

At first, Hoffman wasn't quite sure what had woken him, but then he realised it had been a very, very quiet snick as the handcuffs had been very, very cautiously unlocked. His brain pondered this information, and then came to the correct conclusions.

He lunged forward and there was a terrified squeal. Hoffman hadn't been expecting his sudden free movement after the night before and his momentum brought both himself and Michelle crashing to the floor.

Hoffman glanced quickly at the door to make sure John hadn't heard, and then, satisfied, gripped Michelle's neck tightly with his hands. She choked, and he felt an overpowering of distaste for the girl. She always acted so weak, so helpless, before fucking that old man every night.

One day he might kill her for what she'd done to himself and Amanda.

But not now.

Not yet...

"You _ever_," He hissed at her. "_Ever_ try to make me look like a fool again, I don't care what John does to me, I _will_ kill you. Same goes for if you ever tell him about _this_ incident. _Do you understand?_"

Michelle nodded, her eyes bulging with terror, and Hoffman released her. He really couldn't be bothered to even waste his cutting remarks on the girl, so he went for the simple method. "Piss off!" He snapped at the cowering, retching figure on the floor.

She pissed off.

Hoffman momentarily felt guilty for doing that. Not for the actual act, but for the memory of what had happened last time he let his arrogant pride get in the way of him...

He kept it behind him now. John hadn't said he had to get rid of _that_...it was still there, but no-one saw it.

Ignoring his thoughts, Hoffman took a brief, cold – _that bitch had used up the motherfucking warm water!_ – shower and got dressed. It suddenly came to him that he had neglected an interesting fact.

For the fist time in slightly over three months, he had slept well.

Going in search of Amanda, he found her staring moodily into a dull sheet of metal that served as her only mirror. She was wearing a black corset-like top with red laces, a black waistcoat and tight black skinny jeans.

He couldn't have loved her more.

"Relationship problems again, 'Mandy?" He said softly, repeating the words he'd used so long ago when he'd shown Amanda how close John and Michelle really were. He was shocked when she whipped round, every muscle tensed in defiance and her eyes in cat-like slits. "Hey, hey..."

"Did you have fun last night, Hoffman?" She spat.

"So we're off first name terms now?" Hoffman was confused. For once, he actually hadn't done _anything_...

"You didn't have to do that," Amanda's eyes blurred with tears; she was wise enough not to scream, but she was still talking pretty loudly. "You didn't have to motherfucking play with me. You've been planning this from the very first time you fucking came back here; don't try to insult my intelligence!"

"Wha-" Usually the way Hoffman looked when the penny dropped made her laugh, but this time it didn't. She wasn't prepared when he crushed her to his chest, and she hit him hard. "Amanda, I would _never_ take advantage of your feelings, I swear I never knew you loved John."

Amanda took some steadying breaths, confused. "Hoffman...you _knew_...sometimes before...when you looked at me...you used it..."

"Amanda," Hoffman said firmly, pressing her tighter against him and wincing as the small cuts running down his back cracked open. "I know what you think, and I swear I never used that against you –"

"You still don't get it!" She laughed, still crying. "I thought...you knew how much I cared about you. I thought...you were toying with me."

Hoffman grinned suddenly. "Well, now we've established that _that's_ not true...I have a proposition for you."

Amanda drew back slightly and smiled. "What?"

He leaned in closer. "You want to do that again sometime without the handcuffs?"

And just to prove his point, and to show John where to stick his conditions, he kissed her.

* * *

**I've been wanting to write this for AGES...HOFFANDAS 4 EVA!!!!**

**Btw, on the igloo front; it's completely fallen over, and I have given up. Any 'Saw' type trap tips for foxes or squirrels?**


	8. Never Gonna Leave You

"'Mandy..."

"Mmmph?"

"'Mandy, you've got to go."

There was no reaction.

Hoffman sighed exasperatedly.

It was three weeks after the handcuffs episode, and – to Hoffman's slight surprise – John hadn't found out about anything the two of them were doing.

It _was_, he had to admit, easy to hide secrets in the dark, but sometimes he couldn't help wondering...

It was far too easy to be able to pretend to give each other the cold shoulder when they were in the same room together; at least, when Michelle and John were with them in that room.

But the nights were when the two of them really came to life. It took a lot of resolve not to give a single thing away in the day, but of course at night John and Michelle – they hoped – would be preoccupied, and they could show whatever they wanted.

There was only one slight flaw with this plan; John and Michelle seemed to actually enjoy getting up at the crack of dawn. Hoffman and Amanda – being reasonably sane when it came to getting up – preferred very long lie-ins until someone shouted at them. However because of this Amanda always had to sneak back to her own room after...well, _everything_. Nothing was really left to the imagination...

Except it was becoming harder and harder to leave him...

She heard his sigh and smirked, enjoying the mini-luxury of his body warmth. It was unusually cold for April, one of the biggest perks of their new 'arrangement' was being curled up next to Hoffman, feeling the dull thump of his heart like a loud drumbeat in a club right underneath her head.

At this point in time, however, Hoffman wasn't actually enjoying himself as much as he usually did. However much he cared about Amanda, 6 AM is still 6 AM and the sun was meant to come up at 6:15.

He'd been checking the Met Office. It must look odd when John went through his computer history – and Hoffman knew he did that, just in case he went on any...unsavoury...websites – but it was the only way to be able to check when John would be getting up. Besides, last time he tried to delete his computer history he'd only succeeded in crashing the computer, which meant John instantly suspected him when he tried to turn it on.

On the basis of a coffee cup.

Too addicted...

Hoffman sighed again and shifted, trying to get Amanda off him. She simply mumbled something sleepily and clung onto him even tighter, her long thin legs wrapped tight around his waist.

She was like a koala.

A very, very annoying koala.

"Amanda, you've got to fucking move!" Hoffman said tensely, glancing at the door. He was too annoyed to use the shortened version of her name he so affectionately called her; didn't she get that his life was constantly on the line? Every night Amanda stayed five minutes longer, until this morning he'd woken up to find her still wrapped around him.

It was not an altogether unpleasant experience, but still...

"Duntwanooo...s'warm..." Amanda mumbled slightly louder this time, and this time Hoffman heard her. He smiled; as much as he was annoyed with her, he just couldn't help curving his lips at her limboed state between waking and sleeping.

"'Mandy," He said gently, trailing his fingers lazily up her bare thigh. "John and Michelle will be up soon." He wasn't sure what exactly she said, but he could make a pretty good guess. He laughed softly and kissed her just as softly on the cheek. Amanda shivered as his warm lips came into contact with her cool skin and her lips puckered in return. Hoffman laughed again.

"'Mandy, if you don't fucking move I'll be in more bullshit than you can possibly imagine." He said good-naturedly, keeping his face close to hers. "You don't want that, do you? You don't want to loose the best..."

"I don't wanna leave...you." The words were faint, but at this close range Hoffman could still hear them. He wrapped his arms properly around her.

"I don't want you to leave either," He whispered. "But we don't have any choice."

As if proving his point, they heard a clang and some muffled swearing as someone walked sleepily into the sheets of metal stacked against the wall ready for the next test.

_Michelle_, they both thought – unknowingly – at the same time. The one thing they didn't need right now was Michelle walking in on them, and Hoffman most of all; he had a sneaking suspicion Michelle knew...

Amanda hoisted herself out of bed, put on her black and red flimsy knickers and t-shirt and made for the door – then stopped, turned back round and embraced Hoffman with a passion that slightly shocked both of them.

Five minutes later, when their lips finally broke apart – Hoffman just couldn't control himself – Amanda smiled. "I love you Mark."

Hoffman smiled back and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "I love you too."

It was the first time either of them had said those three words.

Although they both hated the song, they found they didn't hate saying it.

However, there were still so many things they didn't know.

For instance, Hoffman didn't know about the camera in his room.

Amanda didn't know that, as she left Hoffman's room in a state of euphoric bliss, she was also being watched.

And neither of them knew that John knew, and they both were to be judged...

* * *

**DADUMDAAAAAAMMMMMMM!!!!!**


	9. Poison

As soon as someone jumped on him from behind, Hoffman knew he was in deep shit.

He was pleasantly able to shake off his attacker – Michelle, presumably – and was about to advance forward just as something cold sank into his neck.

As the chilly numbness spread through his circularity system, Hoffman somehow had the strength to stumble blearily round to meet John's piercing, angry gaze.

"There's a consequence for breaking resolutions, Hoffman." John said icily.

Hoffman gripped the wall to keep himself upright; he could feel the drugs kicking in. "I'm guessing you know?"

Through his blurring vision, he saw John nod stiffly.

"Ah." He said, and everything went black.

* * *

Coming round in pitch darkness was pretty freaking scary, but Hoffman was pleasantly surprised that he wasn't chained down on or to something.

When the lights came on in a bright flash, like someone had flicked a switch, after the initial blindness he saw that there was absolutely nothing in the room, which was bright white with a single fluorescent light strip.

He quickly looked down at himself; no stitching.

There seemed to be nothing at all.

Apart from a small, deep sea blue glass bottle.

And a tape player.

Hesitantly, Hoffman walked slowly over, picked up the tape player – and pressed play.

"_Hello Hoffman. If you are listening to this properly – since you didn't listen to me the first time – then you should already know why you're here. I warned you of the consequences if you disobeyed my instructions, and you still took no heed. Now you will take the consequence of your actions._

"_Your attachment to Amanda has poisoned your resolve, and instead of trying to vaccinate this you simply let it spread till it rotted you away. The bottle in front of you is filled with poison; the quantity in that bottle if completely drained will kill you in one hour._

"_You have three minutes to drink all of its contents, and unless you do so the nail bombs in each of the corners of the room will detonate, and you will die. Do not think this is inescapable; as you trusted Amanda to save your lust-filled soul, so if you drink the bottle you must trust Amanda to save your life, for only she has the antidote to save you._

"_Live or die; make your choice."_

The tape finished.

The timer flickered on.

**2:59**

Hoffman glanced round the room, only now noticing the nail bombs.

And the camera.

"_Fuck you!_" He screamed at it.

**2:50**

Hoffman paced furiously up and down the room, thinking frantically and fast.

Could he really trust Amanda that much, that she would actually save his life?

**2:05**

And he realised two things:

He had no choice, and

He did.

She'd said she'd loved him; he'd just have to hope that would be enough.

Hoffman picked up the bottle and raised it to his lips. "Cheers," He said sarcastically, before taking a swig.

It tasted foul and bitter. He scrunched his face up. "Fuck you." He said again to the camera, but he could already feel the poison working; there wasn't any time.

He drained the bottle and grimaced; he could feel it burning down his throat, curling like a snake in his stomach, slipping into his bloodstream...

And then it hit his head and heart and the last thing he could think as he crumpled to the ground in agony was _I'm going to die..._

* * *

_Two figures watched the monitors as Hoffman writhed in unimaginable agony on the ground._

_The red-head pressed a hand to her face. "Was the poison really necessary?"_

"_If we are to test him fully, yes." John frowned at the screen. "I must say I hadn't expected him to be so...trusting."_

"_I can't watch!" Moaned Michelle as Hoffman yelled in pain, his face deathly pale and sweating heavily._

_She half turned, and John caught her wrist. "You must!" He said fiercely. "Because I need to know that you will carry on my work when I'm gone."_

_Michelle went quiet and a sort of tension fell between them. "John...I can't do this."_

_John laid his palm tenderly across her face. "Michelle, you can. I trust you and care for you deeply, is that not enough?"_

_There were another few moments of precious romantic tension before John turned back to the screens, tearing his eyes from the young woman he desperately loved._

_Part of him realised that if he were Hoffman, then he wouldn't be able to stop himself either._

_If he replaced Amanda with Michelle._

_But the Jigsaw part of him reprimanded the other sternly. Consequences always came with actions._

"_Amanda should be awake soon." He said finally. "Let us hope she will make it through her test."_


	10. Knives

It was so much easier to knock out Amanda.

Well, only because she had her MP3 up so loud. Usually she was always so fierce, tense, and with cat-like hearing abilities and stealth.

Usually the people trying to ambush her were ambushed themselves.

But not with her MP3 blaring Paramore as she walked down the corridors she knew like the back of her hand.

Like she knew Hoffman's hands...

As it was, she had her head in the clouds.

Complete sheer euphoric bliss that had lasted like a shiny soap bubble.

It was the needle as she rounded the corner that popped it.

And then the world went senseless and cold.

* * *

When she woke up, Amanda could just about kid herself that she was safe in Hoffman's arms and the day had just started again.

Till she felt the cold hard concrete.

And saw the razor sharp knives.

All under blazing white fluorescent light.

A TV screen turned on and she watched, petrified, as the eerie ventriloquist puppet know affectionately by John as 'Billy' turned slowly, purposefully, like something out of a nightmare, towards her.

"Shit, no..." Amanda whimpered. "_Shit, no..._"

"_Hello Amanda,_" 'Billy' began solemnly.

"_For three months you craved something you knew could never have. Three weeks ago you led him into temptation, which he – admittedly – gladly took. However, it was still two people so you must share the punishment with him._

"_You will see around you the sharp implements you used to cause destruction to your body. Three minutes ago the one you claimed to love took poison in part of his test; it will kill him in one hour. In that time you must find the antidote in this maze of knives; to find it you must navigate your own path._

"_Alternatively, you can choose to value your oath to him and not permit yourself to cut yourself deliberately. You may stay in this spot until the hour is up, safe and unscarred but having lost the thing you craved more than the slits on your wrists._

"_Which will you value more; three months of unbroken promises or three weeks of unbroken love? Make your choice; the timer is already ticking."_

The TV screen fizzled off.

The timer flickered.

**56:59**

"NO!" Amanda screamed at the camera. "I'VE BEEN THROUGH YOUR GODDAMN LIFE LESSONS BEFORE; I DON'T NEED TO DO IT AGAIN!"

But she knew she had no choice.

She reached out and touched one of the knives lightly with her finger. The skin split even on that light impact, and a bead of blood swelled and spilled down her finger.

Amanda swore quietly; there was no hope in hell that she'd get through this unscathed.

**55:46**

She turned slowly round her claustrophobic space, taking in her surroundings more clearly. The knives were fitted and clamped close together, making kinds of walls.

Walls with the razors sticking unevenly outwards.

She noted that there was a thin passageway where the knives did not completely meet and she whimpered; she'd have to go down there.

**54:57**

Amanda whimpered, but slowly, cautiously, slipped sideways into the passage. She almost screamed as a razor slashed into her side, but somehow she restrained herself.

**54:44**

It was a living hell.

If she kept her eyes on the floor to look for any knives jutting out to trip her, she walked into a wall of sharp implements.

If she kept her eyes up, she stumbled on a knife that would stick into her ankles and threaten to trip her.

Even with her slow, careful progress, the knives still cut deeply into her flesh; her slowness only tripled the pain and the torment, especially when she took wrong turns in this demonic maze.

She screamed now; there was no sense in not doing so.

Her head becoming hazy with blood loss, Amanda checked the timer, whose irritating beeping was like a metronome for her screams.

**10:28**

Her hour was almost up.

Amanda sobbed and collapsed onto her hands and knees.

She couldn't do this; there was no hope at all.

If there was nothing around this next corner – and she'd been hoping for something round every corner – then she would give up.

_I'm sorry, Mark._ She thought. _It's too fucking hard._

Crawling round the corner, blood and tears running down her face, Amanda slowly lifted her head, expecting to see just another empty corridor of torture in front of her.

Instead she saw right at the end of it, a syringe filled with some kind of green liquid on a stone plinth.

**9:53**

Amanda stood and stumbled blindly down the narrow passage. She felt the sharp implements rip into her torso and face and legs and arms, but she ignored the pain.

With a yell of triumph she picked up the antidote – and looked at a dead end.

Now what?

Realisation dawned on her.

John didn't want her to find just the antidote; he wanted her to seek the way to Hoffman as well.

She looked at the timer again.

**7:39**

The tears rolled down her face again.

Both of them – him and her – were doomed.

And then she saw the hole.

The hole where a screw should've been.

The screw which had – literally – been thrown out the window.

Amanda grinned madly, stepped forward, and tapped the wall.

Michelle had been right; the screw _had_ been an important part of the trap. With a metallic groan, the section of the wall caved outwards. In a domino effect it crashed into all the walls behind it, creating clouds of concrete dust and a safe passage for Amanda.

When the dust clouds cleared, there was a door at the far end of them.

Amanda, thanking whatever God that was listening, made for it.

At the door, she turned.

**5:48**

She'd made it.

And she opened the door.

* * *

_Even though John knew that the rules had been broken, for some reason he couldn't care less._

"_I'm sorry, John," Michelle squeaked, expecting retribution. "I should've told you..."_

"_It's ok, Michelle." John said to her._

_Michelle caught his expression. "But..."_

"_But...you need to get down there now. Amanda's loosing blood fast, and Hoffman..."_

"_You're not sure whether the antidote will work, are you?" Michelle realised._

_John smiled slightly; that girl knew his every thought. "I know it'll WORK...I'm just not sure whether it'll work in time."_

_There was a heartbeat's pause. "Where's the medical stuff?" Michelle called as she hurried off._

"_The name 'The Medical Room' does hold a clue!" John called sarcastically after her. He coughed into his hand and frowned as he saw the blood there._

_There was no antidote for HIS poison..._

* * *

"Oh, _shit!_" Amanda ran over to Hoffman's prone body. He was too weak to move, the sweat beading down his pale – almost grey – face as he struggled to breath.

Amanda checked his pulse. Despite the fact he looked cold it felt like he was burning to ashes, and his heartbeat was too irregular and weak for comfort.

"Mark...?" She whispered, placing a hand on his cheek. He moved his head slightly and she was sure that he could hear her.

The antidote. _Dumbarse, don't forget the fucking ANTIDOTE..._

She jabbed it into the soft skin at the base of his neck and watched as the green liquid was propelled into his body.

Suddenly she felt dizzy and she rested her head on Hoffman's chest, feeling his faint heartbeat as the mists that came with blood loss finally clouded her vision.

"We're going to be fine, Mark," She murmured. "You and me both..."

Just before Amanda blacked out, she felt Hoffman's heart stutter and fall silent.

* * *

**...There are no words to be said.**


	11. Heaven

If there was anything in the world that Hoffman hated more than Michelle, it would be feeling weak.

It wasn't that he disliked it; he just didn't like it happening to _him_.

However it _was_ happening to him, and it came to him as he finally stirred out of the hellhole he'd been in for God knows how long that a) He was naked and in bed and b) someone was lying next to him.

It had better not be that bitch Michelle playing a joke on him again...

"Mark...?" The person next to him tightened her grip around him, and he recognised that she was naked too. "You awake?"

It was Amanda; Hoffman would've grinned if he'd had the energy. "Mmmph..." He mumbled and blearily opened his eyes.

What he saw properly jerked him awake. "Amanda! What..." He looked in horror at the scars that criss-crossed over her being, ranging from light crimson to cherry black depending on how deep the marks were.

She smiled slightly, sadly, her smile made grotesque by the amount of scar tissue on her face. "It was part of my test. None of its permanent – it should fade in a bit...but it will take a couple of months.

Hoffman struggled to sit up. "Right, that's it. I'm killing the old man before the cancer does – I bet it'll feel cheated." The world spun and he slumped back onto the pillows, swearing at his weakness.

"Mark, hey, it's ok." Amanda sat on his chest to stop him from trying to get up again.

"He hurt you!" Hoffman spat. "That son of a bitch needs to pay...or at least give me a reason that isn't anything to do with 'life lessons' or any of that crap..."

"Mark, calm down!" She smiled softly. "In the end, I think it was worth it."

Hoffman snorted. "How the fuck was it worth it?"

"You could've _died_ Mark!" He stopped struggling as he heard the tone of her voice and just stared into her eyes. "You have no fucking _idea_ how much it hurt to see you like that...your heart stopped beating once...I thought I'd lost you." Hoffman started to say something, but Amanda pressed her fingers against his lips. "I'm glad I did what I did; if I hadn't I wouldn't still have you."

Hoffman smirked weakly. "And the point of you being here like this now was...?"

"You were like a motherfucking furnace; besides, it was a lot more effective than cold water!"

Hoffman laughed and pulled Amanda from sitting position to lying flat next to him so he could curl his arms round her.

"And so I'd be the first one you saw when you woke up..." She murmured, kissing him.

Hoffman shuddered, aroused, but decided against doing anything rash. "If I'm dead then this a pretty good kind of heaven."

Well, apart from the weakness.

Amanda grinned and snuggled up close. "I'll second that."

* * *

It was another week until Hoffman had recovered properly, and as soon as he had he discovered that John wanted to see him. Walking down the corridor, his anger about what had happened to Amanda surfaced again and it showed because when he stormed into the main room of the warehouse Michelle took one look at his face and hurriedly walked right to the far end of the room.

Amanda was working on a trap with a wrench. She smiled at him – properly, the cuts were fast vanishing – across her work and Hoffman smiled back.

Then he walked into the Medical room to find John having another one of his crippling coughing fits. "Bad cold?" He asked sarcastically, crossing his arms as he refused to look at the dark patch of blood staining the concrete.

Or the bin full of used condoms.

"Stop being sarcastic, Hoffman," John snapped. "And listen to me. I have a deal to make."

"Oh goody, what now?" Hoffman had missed using his cutting comments; that was something he'd never take for granted again. "Join a gay club?"

"No. It's to do with Amanda..." John glanced at Hoffman's face and nodded; he now knew he had the detective's full attention. "I'll allow you to...have a relationship with her, as long as you never have one with any other women. Got that?" He smirked at Hoffman's face; clearly he hadn't been expecting that. "And no, it's not an April Fool; it's a month past that, if you've lost track of time again..."

Hoffman was silent. He love Amanda, had need her for so long, but could he make a long-term commitment.

The answer was – unusually – instantaneous: he motherfucking could, so say yes you _fool_. He hated his mind sometimes.

"Alright." He shrugged.

John glared at him. "You sure? No more tricks up your sleeve?"

Hoffman smiled innocently. "Me? Never!" He turned and walked out.

"Our deal about Michelle still stands!" He heard John call after him, but he pretended not to hear.

Right now he was going to tell Amanda the good news.

His new resolution.

And this was one he could – quite easily – keep.

* * *

**Thanks for reading - hope you all enjoyed! Keep your eyes peeled – like carrots – for the sequel, and be sure to check out SeaSaw's stuff in the meantime.**

**Happy reading!**


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